The Wind and Window Flower
by Chera Lynn
Summary: Something happend in the past that will change their lives forever.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'm only gonna do this once! I _don't_ own anything you find in the **Harry Potter** books. Those belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling

I don't own this poem, the great and wonderful **Robert Frost** does. It is called_ 'Wind and Window Flower' _His most amazing poem ever.

I own the plot, and I solemnly swear that I am up to no good! ;)

A/N: Yet another D/Hr story! Changed it up a bit from what you might remember, but I'll be much, much better. I _promise_!

=/\_/\=

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~INTRODUCTION~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

**Lovers, forget your love, **

**And list to the love of these. **

**She a window flower, **

**And he a winter breeze. **

**When the frosty window veil **

**Was melted down at noon, **

**And the caged yellow bird **

**Hung over her in tune, **

**He marked her through the pane **

**He could not help but mark, **

**And only passed her by, **

**To come again at dark. **

**He was a winter wind, **

**Concerned with ice and snow, **

**Dead weeds and unmated birds, **

**And little of love could know. **

**But he sighed upon the sill, **

**He gave the sash a shake, **

**As witness all within **

**Who lay that night awake. **

**Perchance he half prevailed **

**To win her for the flight **

**From the firelit looking-glass **

**And warm stove-window light. **

**But the flower leaned aside **

**And thought of naught to say, **

**And morning found the breeze **

**A hundred miles away.**


	2. One Hundred Years Ago

A/N: This certainly is a DM/HG story. Please don't be confused. It's important to the story line.

Review if you like, review if you hate. I like criticism.

There they stood, in the same argument as always. He said 'Mudblood', she said 'Git', he said, 'Know-it-all', she said 'Spoiled-Brat'. They were in their seventh year and they were still fighting like first years. The year was almost over; soon they'd be out on their own, and they needed to grow up a little.

She never knew how he felt about her. She never knew how she really felt about him. He wasn't always a selfish pig; he didn't always hide his emotions. She liked it when he was civil towards her, and when he let his emotions show. Just a few days ago he looked at her with those steel gray eyes, and something she never saw before shown through. She could have uncovered his feelings that day if her friends hadn't decided to play hero, and rescue her from him. She hated when they did that. She didn't know why but sometimes she enjoyed his presence. She thought she hated him. No, she didn't hate him. She loved him, but she didn't know that. It was one of those things that you don't discover until it's gone. She had to learn the hard way.

"Landon," Gypsy said looking into those eyes with her brown ones once again, "why do you hate Harper, Zane, Ebony and I so badly?"

"Firstly, Harper always gets attention, Zane and Ebony are poor as dirt, and you," he started, glancing over her shoulder, only to see Harper, Zane, and Ebony, (Zanes twin sister) coming towards them. He sighed and looked into her eyes, "You, are a mudblood."

She felt an unfamiliar pang in her heart, but she ignored it.

"Step away from her, Malfoy." Harper yelled, pulling out his wand.

"Harper, no." Gypsy said pushing his wand away.

"Gypsy, he's the enemy." Zane said.

"Ebony," Gypsy started, "please explain to your thick headed brother why he, and Harper should not pull out their wands? I think that red hair of his has gotten into his brain."

"Zane, Harper, you don't want to be expelled do you?" said Ebony. The boys shook their heads. "Hogwarts has a rule about no dueling." Ebony sighed, and slapped her brother in the head.

"Oh look, the poor baby Zane can't go a day without a spanking," laughed Landon.

"Shut up Malfoy." came Ebony.

"Get lost." said Zane.

Landon just smirked and walked away. When he was away from them he frowned. He was a Malfoy. Malfoy's couldn't love, and yet he was in love, but not with just anybody, oh no, it had to be a mudblood. His father would beat him senseless. He had to tell her. She had to know, but how was he to get her alone without her bodyguards? He racked his brain for ideas.

Just then the light bulb came on.

"HARPER! ZANE! EBONY!" Gypsy screamed at the top of her lungs, she didn't know why, but she was furious at them for coming, yet again to her rescue. "WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO DO THAT? I WAS ACTUALLY HAVEING A _CIVILIZED_ CONVERSATION WITH HIM! YOU ALWAYS GET IN THE WAY! STOP DOING THAT! I CAN'T EVEN TALK TO PROFESSOR SPANKTHEPLUM WITHOUT YOU COMMING ALONG AND SUPERVISEING! LET ME MAKE THIS CLEAR! _DON'T-DO-IT-AGAIN_!" Her face was now bright red and she was shaking.

"Sorry Gyps', but why are you so angry? I mean it was just Malfoy." said Harper.

Gypsy growled and stormed off to the one place she could call sanctuary. The library. She pulled out a book from the muggle section and began to read. The book was a story about a lost love. One of those mushy, gushy, books. Those always kept her mind off whatever it was she needed to keep her mind off of. She hated not having someone to love, she longed for the feeling. Little did she know she had been feeling it. She just didn't know that that's what she felt when she was with him. Landon Malfoy, her worst enemy. No, not her worst enemy, the one she loved, but she didn't know that, she thought he was her enemy. The only flaw was that people would never accept Landon Malfoy and Gypsy Granger, as a couple.

Landon knew this, but he didn't care what people thought. He just wanted to be with her, to hold her, to kiss her, to love her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He wanted to have a house, and children with her. He loved her. Not even his father could stop him now.

Weeks had passed, and they had spoken 5 words to each other. 'Please, pass the rat's tail.' and 'Here take it, Mudblood. Enjoy.' in potions when they had to share a table. He had to be harsh towards her in front of everyone, because if his father found out, he'd be a dead man. He wasn't out of Hogwarts yet, so he still had to obey by Dwennon Malfoy's rules.

Once he was out of Hogwarts he was on his own. He could do whatever he wanted, except ruin the Malfoy name. He would be doing just that but he didn't care. He was in love.

Graduation was coming soon and they would probably never see each other again. A few more days passed and it was time to board the Hogwart's express. Gypsy sat in a compartment with Zane, Ebony, and Harper, as usual. Landon sat with a few Slytherins, by the names of Ember, Kemp, Marlow, and Spring, whom he'd been acquaintances with all of his seven years. But now, he couldn't stand how dense they were, and set off to find Gypsy. He had planned on telling her two weeks ago, in the library but she didn't go that night. It was now or never. He found the compartment, took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Everyone looked at him.

"What do you want?" asked Zane in a harsh voice.

"I want Gypsy."

"You never called her by her given name before. Why is it so important now?" said Harper, trying to sound cool.

"That doesn't matter. Granger will you come with me?"

"No, she won't. So it's Granger again?" said Ebony.

"Please," he begged.

"No, she's not goi...." Harper started but was cut off by Gypsy.

"_Yes_, I'll come." she said, the annoyance ringing in her voice. She stood up and followed him out of the compartment and into an empty one. "What is it?" she asked.

"I-I I wanted to tell you something."

"What ever do you need to tell me?"

"I needed to tell you how I really feel about you."

Gypsy stayed silent but her eyes were fixed in his. They were not hard and cold as they were around her friends, not they were warm and bright.

"I-I-I... I.. uh... ummm.. I don't know how to say this...." he took a deep breath. "Gypsy Granger I love you."

Gypsy's eyes widened. Her stomach burned. She couldn't say anything she just stared at him. Her eyes were wide. She was scared. Not scared that he might do something but scared because she felt the same way. She knew it then. She loved him, but she couldn't move, she couldn't speak.

Landon just shook his head and left the compartment. She wanted to go after him. She tried to yell his name, but nothing came out of her mouth. She tried to run after him but her legs wouldn't move. She was to scared to move. She knew that she should go after him, but she didn't. She sighed and sunk down onto the seat of the compartment. She never saw him again. She never felt that way again. She married a muggle, and she didn't feel the burning in her stomach. She never loved him as much as she did Landon. She loved him of coarse, but never as much as Landon.

As for Landon, he became cold, heartless. He beat his wife, son and daughter, just like his father did to him and his mother. He killed his daughter; she couldn't take the pain of the curses he used. He promised he'd hurt his wife and children. It was all her fault. He still felt love when he thought of her, but he scolded himself. He couldn't love. She broke his heart when she just looked at him that day. She made him the cruel monster he was. If she would have just followed her heart. If she just would have went after him. It would have turned out differently.

Now this is were the story really begins. Exactly one hundred years later, her great-great granddaughter, and his great-great- grandson, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Hermione, who has no past knowledge of the one witch before her ever in her family, is now tormented by the young great grandson of her great grandmother's one love. Gypsy is determined to put them in their right place. To do what she should have done, one hundred years ago....


	3. Scattered Minds

A/N: Hope you like it. I deleted the other chapters. Please review!

I did a lot of research into the fourth book for all of this (it's my least favorite and I only read it once,) so be very proud of me! =/\_/\=

~*~*

It was at the Yule Ball when he first noticed her. Really noticed her. Noticed her as a woman, not the busy haird bookworm mudblood he'd grown accoustomed to. She was beautiful in her robes of periwinkle blue, her bushy hair tamed and tied back in an elegant knot. She held herself in a way he had never known of her. Probably because she was wrapped around the arm of _Viktor Krum_. When she smiled she seemed to light up the room. No, not seemed to. She did light up the room.

He remembered that night so vividly in his mind, for when she walked past, her head held high, her walk so perfectly graceful, he was rendered speachless. he could feel the jealous heat radiating from his own date, as she gaped at the newly discovered beauty. She'd always been a beauty, he just never cared enough to notice. When he thought back, he recounted how he could not take his eyes off her. Not for a moment. He also remembered how Pansy grew more and more frustrated as the night grew on.

He knew it was not only him that noticed her radience however. The whole night she recieved jealous glares from every girl, and looks of "Why hadn't I asked her?" longing, gaping, looks from his own gender. He remembered asking himself the same question. Why hadn't he asked her? And ask quickly as the tought came to his mind he violently told himself that it was because she was filty. A mudblood. Dirty in the most foul ways of wizarding kind.

At one point during the night, as he walked past them, jealously unwillingly flowing through his veins, he heard the oaf that called himself Krum call her Hermy-own. How dimwitted could one person be to not remember a name as simple as Hermione? Though he perferred calling her Granger, himself. Filthy, mudblood, Granger. He also wonderd how dimwitted she had to be for attending the only ball they'd see at Hogwarts with someone who couldn't even get her name right! He dismissed that tought quickly, almost calling _himself _dimwitted, for even thinking that thought. He knew, she was very bright. The top student in their class. Soon to be Head girl.

At one point, or maybe many, he couldn't be sure, he noticed Weasel glaring daggers at her. Oh, if looks could kill. He was even sure he saw them in an argument, Herm---Granger turinging and leaving not so calmly or gracefully as she had been that night. He knew that the dumb red-head boy had upset her, which for some reason, sent a pang in his stomach. She had looked so radiant, and he had stolen that. He knew it was only jealousy, because it was Weasley himself who had wanted to be with her. Had she turned him down, he wondered, smirking his own glorious smirk.

Ever since he'd recieved the news of sharing Head duties with her, his mind wandered back to that night more frequently than he thought appropriate. He was a Malfoy! Pureblooded and well respected, and she was just a muggleborn. Muggleborn?!? No, she was a filthy dirty mudblood.

He laughed leaning against his pillows, wandering what his father would say about all of this. He would not be very pleased, Draco knew, because not only was she dirty blooded, but she was the only one keeping him from having the highest marks in the class. That made Lucius hate her even more than anyother mudblood in the world, but he did not have to worry abou that just now. The sudden looks of joy coming to his face, for his father and his mother had been taking long trips all through the holidays. Not that he minded at all, the dark cold mannor seemed inviting with no one else in it.

For some unfathomable reason, Draco Malfoy could not seem to hate her anymore.

It was not because of the Yule Ball, though she had certainly exposed her beauty to him that night, and he lingered on that. He wasn't exactly sure what it was. It was almost as if something took over him when he'd recieved the news. A lurch of--happiness?--in the pit of his stomach. He could not understand why, he lothed her. With every single fiber of his being he hated her, and her dirty blood.

Maybe it was the fact that they'd have to do all their assignments togehter, a requirement of the Heads, or maybe it was that fact that he'd be sharing a common room with her this year, and that brought on the possibility of intelligent convercations. _Actual intelligent conversatiosns_. He had longed for that for as long as he had attended Hogwarts. His cronies Crabbe and Goyle likely couldn't even think intelligently, of course they couldn't speak it. And certainly not Pansy Parkinson. She had to be the most dimwitted of them all. All she cared about was badgering him. 'Drakey-Poo' this, and 'Drakey-Poo' that. Just the sound of her voice made him cringe, and the nickname she'd developed a liking for wasn't one of his favorites.

With all of the thoughts swarming in his head as he rested against his pillow, those of Pansy and her annoying presance, Crabbe and Goyle's obvious stupidity, and the soon to be head girl, beautiful, breath-taking Hermione, he fell fast asleep.

----------

She smiled as she looked at her self in the mirror. Examining her brand new school robes, which were finished of perfectly with her shining now "Head Girl" badge. This would be her last year at Hogwarts, the best year. She skipped happily over to her trunk, carefully took off her badge and wrapped it in a scarlet cloth, gently placing it in her trunk, and discarded her robes. She raced to her closet to find something sutible to wear for dinner tonite. Her parents were taking her out for dinner, to celebrate her new position, and to say their good-bye's before they actually had to say them.

Her fingers traced over her clothes, touching lightly at the fabrics when her eyes rested upon a velvet green turtleneck. Her happiness suddenly turned into a mixture of horror and anger. She had almost forgotten! _How_ had she almost forgotten? She scornfully threw the sweater to the floor, not wanting to be reminded of him for now, and picked out a lovely red blouce insted. It fitted nicely over her forming girlishness. She blushed at the curves that had started to form in her fourth year, but were now becoming more prominent. For some reason it embarassed her.

She sighed to herself, feeling guilty about being embarassed by her body. It happed to every woman on earth, did she expect to say a pin forever? She picked up the green sweater off of the floor and held it for a while, thinking for the first time since she'd disregarded everything but her new position, about Draco Malfoy.

She wondered whether it would be half bad, sharing a common room, school assignments, and long hours of head duties together. He was a very handsome, smart, man after all. She couldn't ignore him forever. She quickly jumped up at the thought. Her cheeks flushing crimson. How could she even think such a thing? About the one and only boy who had tormented her entire exsistance. He'd called her 'mudblood' countless times, the first few making her cry, but she made herself immune to the nasty work. He'd gotten them all thrown into the Dark Forest for a detention in their first year, trying to be smug. The little bastard!

She shook her head, her bushy hair shaking around her face. No, she couln't think these things about him! It was.. Immoral! She couldn't do that to herself, Harry, the Weasleys.

Once again she carelessly tossed the sweater onto the ground, the thing that had reminded her of him, and stepped on it, as if it was his own smirking, handsome face. No, no! Not handsome, evil! She huffed at herself, what was she thinking? Without another look back at the velvet lyring on the ground she pranced down the stairs to meet her parents for their last supper of the summer holidays. She would be bording the train tomorrow, and then being escorted to her privet common rooms with the damned blonde ferret!


	4. A Meeting With the Past

A/N: Hope you like it! It took me a while to write this so review please. Good or bad, doesn't matter!

Hope you love it!

*************

Hermione Granger sat in Compartment 15 on the train to Hogwarts. She sat quietly, alone, absorbed in the book that she held on her lap. Oh, her precious books, how they gripped her mind. It was like she needed them, like a vampire lusting for blood. Her focus wavered from the book from time to time. She had an odd, eerie feeling that she was not alone, but she was _quite_ alone. She chose not to sit with Harry and her favorite red haired family this particular year because, oddly, she'd had a lot on her mind. She didn't feel like hearing 'Hermione? Are you okay?' 'Hermione, tell us what's wrong!' She also did not feel like hearing about Quidditch, which was going to be a prominent part of their conversation, as Harry had been named captain the previous year. Also, Ginny and Ron were on the team. So upon boarding the train, she'd walked past the compartment they'd shared for the past six years, and found an empty one. Oddly enough it didn't seem to have had an occupant for quite a few many years. It was covered in cobwebs, and as she ran a finger across the cushioned seat, a layer of dust disappeared. She'd decided upon this compartment, because she was sure that no one would bother her.

Sighing, mostly at the fact that she felt another presence in the compartment with her, she stood, walking to the compartment door to peer out and see if there was anyone out there looking in. As she looked out, she happened across Seamus Finnigan walking down the corridor of the train. Apparently she startled Seamus out of his 100% Irish skin.

"Hermione!" he said, "What were you doing in _that _compartment?"

"Oh, well this one was the only empty one, and I needed some solitary time, so I figured..." she started.

"Don't you know?" Seamus asked her in awe, like there was something strange that she should know about.

"Know what?" Hermione asked, clearly tempted by his story.

"About that compartment? You've never heard of Compartment fifteen?" he asked, his eyes widening.

She looked at the front of the door, she hadn't even noticed the number. "No, tell me."

"Ok. Well, as legend tells it, a very, very, long time ago, there was a lady named Gypsy. Her beauty was said to be ravishing. She was supposedly confronted by the only person she'd ever loved in this compartment. The only one she was meant to be with. When he confessed his love to her, she found herself unable to speak, unable to move. He stormed out, probably figuring that she did not love him back, that he made a fool of him self for making himself so veurnable. She didn't go after him. She couldn't. They say she wanted to, that her feet would not move. She was stunned, because she had loved him very much the same. She lived her life out very unhappily. They say after her death, she

came back to the compartment and she never leaves it. She doesn't like people to enter, she screams in agony for her lover, she throws anything she can get her hands on. It's obvious that she wants to be alone. She sits there, century after century, waiting for her lover to come back, so she can make her mistakes right." He shuddered.

'_That explains the I'm not alone feeling' _she thought to herself before she spoke.

Hermione shrugged it off, obviously this ghost, if it was real, didn't mind her company. Maybe it was because she was minding her own business. "Nothing happened to me in there."

"Well, I'm never going in there again. Even the house elves refuse to go in there. When

I went in there in first year, a book was chucked at my head. I'm getting freaked out just standing by it, so I'm gunna go." he said, and turned to walk away.

She watched him walk down the corridor, if a book was thrown at his head then possibly this was a real deal. She shrugged again and turned back to the compartment, back to her book. She thought for a few minutes, the words of her book not popping out at her like usual. She snapped it shut and looked around the compartment at nothing. Was she crazy? Ghosts showed themselves in her world.

"Why do you wait?" Hermione called, feeling silly, hoping no one would walk by.

"You. I've been waiting for you dear." Came a soft sweet voice, not unlike her own.

"Come again?" she asked, taken aback, "Can I see you?"

Gypsy appeared, without an explanation. She mirrored Hermione almost exactly, chocolate brown eyes, high cheekbones. There was only one difference. Her hair. It wasn't bushy like Hermione's, it fell down her back in soft spiral curls. She wore Gryffindor robes, and smiled deeply at Hermione's bewildered expression.

"Woah! This is weird. You look just like me." Hermione gasped.

"No, it's not really weird." whispered Gypsy, "I'm your great grandmother, many greats actually." She chuckled at that, her voice beautiful.

"What did you mean by 'I've been waiting for you'?"

"Many, many years ago I made a huge mistake," Gypsy explained, "Our bloodlines, though his are pure, and mine was, well, what he called 'dirty', should have been banded together forever. I loved him with such a fiery passion I cannot even explain it. He loved me too, just as much, though for many of my youthful years I'd been oblivious to it. He seemed to have hated me. It was in this very compartment that he confessed his love to me. His undying love. Love was weakness in his eyes. When I couldn't go after him…" she trailed off her voice going quiet, "When I didn't go after him, he took that as a sign that I did not love him. We lived our lives separately and miserably. I'm here to put it right. His descendent is at Hogwarts with you. You two are destined to be together. I dwell here to make sure that the moment you found me, I could let you in on this. No doubt you've been thinking about him more frequently. He came to me last year, very handsome boy."

Before Hermione could speak, Gypsy was gone. No not gone, just invisible. Why would she just leave, without explaining further?

"Gypsy? Grandmother?" she called.

"Talking to yourself Granger?" drawled a voice.

It hit her the moment she heard his ugly voice. The voice she hated more than anything in the whole world. She felt a blush creep up on her cheeks as she understood. She _had _been thinking about him. Drawling over how handsome he was. His set jaw insulting her. She looked up at his features, a lack of words overcoming her, her blush deepening when she looked at those impenetrable gray eyes.

"Do I stun you?" Draco asked with a half smirk, "I've never seen your dirty mouth lost for words. You always have a nice retort. You must have noticed my undeniable handsomeness. And to top it all off, you're blushing."

"What do you want Malfoy?" she snarled, "To torture me? Oh, of course that's what you want. That's what you've always wanted."

Stunned by her words, Draco looked down at her beautiful very red cheeks. How could he ever want to torture a beauty like that?

Draco cringed involuntarily, and composed himself quickly to hide his new weakness. "Head's meeting." He said pointing at the door.

Hermione sighed and pushed herself off of the bench. She stopped, momentarily looking at the boy, no wrong word, man that she would be sharing a dorm with for the next year. She couldn't find it in herself to be angry anymore. She just stared at him, for what seemed like an eternity.

Draco looked at Hermione, her red cheeks glowing hotly. He marveled in her beauty, and knew that he had not hated her for a very long time now. But he would have to keep up with the charade, for his own reputation if nothing else. But he craved, and oh, how powerful that craving was, to talk with her. To reach out for her hand, and walk along the endless corridors of Hogwarts sharing their ideas and their fears and dreams with each other. He had never been able to discuss anything like that with anyone else. Fear was a weakness. This feeling he was harboring for Hermione in the pit of his stomach was a weakness. And weakness would only bring his father down upon him.

He knew though, that their private little sanctuary was just that. A sanctuary. Somewhere his father could never reach him. He could tell her anything he wanted, if she'd let him. He would tell her anything.

"Let's go, Mudblood." he said his tone not harsh, but betraying his hurt in saying it.

Hermione scowled, and as they turned to head for the meeting, she felt her book being tugged out of her hand, and watched in half horror half amusement as it flew forceful through the air towards Draco's head.


	5. Confrontation

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed. I honestly didn't even realize I had any reviews. Please keep reading and reviewing, let me know if you don't like a certain thing, or if you love a certain thing. I love criticism!**

**Also, I just wanted to let you know, that Gypsy won't have many, if any at all, more appearances in this story. The first two chapters were just setting up the story. ****This chapter will take place about a week into the Hogwarts school year. **

**Thank you again, and I hope you can be patient with me, because I don't know how often I'll be able to update because I'm very busy at this point. (Lots of over time!) That will die soon though I'm sure, once the holiday's have passed. Thank you for listening to my ramble, if I don't get another chapter up then Happy Holidays to you! ****On to the next chapter! **

* * *

Draco was fuming, once again. This had been usual. He refused to believe that it was not Hermione who had chucked the thousand page, hard back, book at his head. She was trying to keep peace, she knew that if she had to spend almost every waking hour with him this year, they might as well get along. The thought was against her better judgment, she knew, because there was no making peace with Draco Malfoy. Especially when he hated her so much. She did not know, however, that over the holidays while _she_ was the one fuming over having to share so many hours with him, he was the one dreaming of peace, of friendship, maybe more than that.

"I _told_ you," she shouted, not caring that her voice would echo through the silent, abandoned corridors while they made their nightly rounds, "I was not the one who through that book at your head! It was my grandmother! She haunts that compartment! She a poltergeist or something!"

"Even if I were to believe your hallucinations," he retorted, "Which I _don't, _I still don't believe that it wasn't you! I've been in that compartment before, and there was _no _ghost. Tell me, has there ever been another witch in your family? If so, then why did you not know that you were a witch! Your blood is filthy, same as always. Take responsibility for your actions."

"Responsibility?" she shrieked, "I'm the most respon---"

Draco cut her off pressing a finger to her lips. She drew back quickly shocked by the gesture. He had never touched her before, and he was so _soft_! As her cheeks flushed a bright red she was thankful for the dim light in the corridors. She stared up into his eyes, her own wide with amazement. Draco seemed just as shocked as she was, she noted, because he was staring at his finger, which had not moved from the place he had touched her.

He quickly composed himself before she could even ask what that was. "Did you want me to let you wake up the whole damn school, Granger?"

She sighed, turning her eyes to the floor and continued on their rounds. "Can we just drop this? We have to live together, do rounds together. We have to share projects with each other! There is no way we will make it through the year as head's if we can't even look like we get along. When we get back to the common room, you can continue hating me." With that, she quickened her pace, so that she was a few strides ahead of him and turned down the next corridor, hoping he would pick another one.

Draco had stopped short in his tracks at her words. Had she really just suggested that they get along? Had she really just said _'You can continue hating me'_? Yes, she had. He was certain of that. But he didn't hate her. Even if his own mind argued with him for that, even if it was against all of his morals, he _couldn't_. Of course she didn't know that. He had been badgering her about the book since the moment they were told their password and left alone. He was sure she was the one that had thrown it, but even so, he had deserved it. He had called her that nasty word. Mudblood. How could he even expect that she would know he didn't hate her when he continued to call her such things?

He looked up from the spot where he'd stopped and noticed that she was gone, her footsteps echoing down a nearby corridor. He assumed that she didn't want him to follow her. She hadn't, after all, yelled at him to hurry up so that they could get this done and retire for the night. With that thought in his mind, a familiar pang ran through his body. How he longed to sit by the hearth of the fire with her, sipping hot chocolate and talking about life. With that in mind, he hurried down the corridor in which her footsteps were echoing and ran to find her.

* * *

She sat at the little table supplied to them for studying with her books spread out in front of her. The confrontation between her and Draco the night before crowded her mind. She sighed a heavy sigh and looked around, once again, at their beautifully decorated common room. It was decorated in their house colors. The couch a deep hunter green, with golden arm chairs on either side of it. There was a book case covering the one wall, the edges adorned with silver, and the velvet carpeting the shelves were a crimson red. The reading material was lavish. Many books, she mused, must have come from the restricted section of the library, but she figured that they would probably be better for researching her assignments.

The walls were a cream color, the plush carpet a deeper tan. Along the walls were tapestries, paintings, and delicate ornaments that accented the room to perfection. To either side of the room were the doors to their private rooms, each adorned with a name plate. There was no door connecting the common room the their private lavatory, those were connected from the bedrooms.

Aside from sharing the bathroom, well the common room all together, everything was perfect.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a softly closing door. She grunted and turned her head back to her book, still upset about their quarrel and the fact that he ran after her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and turning her to face him. The part that aggravated her the most was that he just stared at her. His gray eyes pierced her own and they stayed like that for the most instance of moments and then he walked away.

His scent filled the air. She assumed he had just taken a shower because it was never this strong, but he smelled so good. Never in all her years, had she met a man who's scent distracted her in the most disturbing of ways. Could she actually be feeling something for Draco Malfoy?

She felt those eyes on the back of her head, but she refused to turn and acknowledge them. She didn't want a repeat last night. She looked at the words sprawled in her very tidy hand writing in front of her, but she just couldn't focus on the page in front of her. She wasn't even sure anymore which assignment it was that she was working on.

She was trying to sort out her thoughts when he touched her. He ever so lightly brushed his fingers against the skin on her arm where he had grabbed her the previous night. She shuddered involuntarily, at his soft skin against hers.

"Please don't touch me," she barely whispered.

"I'm sorry," Draco replied equally soft, "You're bruising. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you."

Draco's heart throbbed at the purple outlines of his fingers on her pale skin. How had he done that? He had not meant to hurt her, only to confront her, but the depth that her brown eyes held had shocked him out of words. He could only stare, his words were lost.

"Didn't…" she paused, "Didn't want to hurt me? All you've ever done is hurt me. The whole time I've known you all you've ever done was pick the words that you knew ripped at my heart. You did it, and you did it intentionally."

Another pang. Her words ripped through him like an axe hacked through a full grown tree. Her eye's hadn't moved from her paper, it was like she didn't even notice the bruise, it was like she didn't care about it. He pulled out his wand and knelt down beside her, pulling her hair out of her face.

"I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I'm going to fix this," he motioned to the bruise, "And I'm never going to hurt you again."

He placed his wand gently to her skin and muttered a simple charm that healed the purple mark instantly, but he let his fingers brush against the place where it had been. He had never been sorry for anything in his life, but he truly felt it. He couldn't bare to hurt her. Not when she'd touched him this close to his heart. No one, not even his mother, had ever done that. He had been heartless for his whole life up until now.

He looked up, surprisingly, into her warm eyes. They betrayed emotion, but what was it? Trust? Thankfulness? He could not be sure, but as he stared he noticed a tear threatening to fall. He looked away quickly, not knowing that it was his action of caring that had touched _her _heart.

"I believe you," she said, "I shouldn't, but I do."

He got up swiftly and went back into his bedroom, falling onto his bed. He didn't notice the look of longing that followed him. Could he actually be falling in love with Hermione Granger? The Gryffindor Princess? Side kick of the famous Harry Potter? Yes, he could. Of that, he was certain. But how could he tell her? When all of the years he'd known her, he had tormented her, just like she'd said, causing her heart to bleed.

He looked at the clock cursing aloud. He had his first Quidditch game in the morning, and he need to get some rest. He didn't know how that was going to be possible with that brimming tear swimming in his head.

* * *

**Another A/N: The Quidditch game is when things are going to start between them. Hope it's not moving to fast for you, but that was kinda the point in the first place. This isn't going to be a slow paced story. **


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